


promise and precision

by robokittens



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pre-Captain America: The First Avenger, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-10
Updated: 2015-12-10
Packaged: 2018-05-05 23:09:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5393726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robokittens/pseuds/robokittens
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"So," Steve says, rocking back on his heels, looking up through his eyelashes in a way Bucky knew he'd deny was meant to be coy, "Got any plans for the rest of the evening?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	promise and precision

**Author's Note:**

> a/n this took me literally an entire year to write because i am trash. thanks to the civil war trailer for inspiring me to dust it off and finish it, and thanks to [lickerish](http://archiveofourown.org/users/lickerish) for looking it over!

It's been a long day, and Bucky couldn't be more glad to be home. He shuts the door behind him with a sigh, but there's a smile on his face when he sees Steve standing in the kitchen.

Steve shivers at the first, light touch of Bucky's hand on his back. Bucky trails his fingers down Steve's spine, feather-soft, ticklish, before settling his palm more firmly in the small of Steve's back. He leaves it there as Steve turns to face him, curling himself into the curve of Bucky's arm.

"Hey there, sailor," Steve says with a grin, and Bucky rolls his eyes; it's been Steve's favorite joke ever since Bucky started working down at the Navy Yard, even though he's stuck in an office doing numbers all day and sees about as many ships as Steve does taking classes uptown. 

"Hey Rogers, anyone ever tell you you were funny?" He grins back, and before Steve can reply he hurries on to say, "No? Figured not."

Steve mutters, "Why do I even like you?" and shifts in Bucky's grasp, but before he can move away Bucky slips his arm the rest of the way around Steve's waist and pulls him in.

"C'mon, doll," he says, "I don't work hard all day so you can ignore me when I get home."

Steve makes a face when Bucky says _doll_ , and for a second he almost regrets it; they may play at domesticity, but Steve certainly isn't Bucky's woman, and he gets prickly at any implication that he is. But Bucky _likes_ it when Steve's prickly, is the thing, likes riling him up a little.

And Steve's got his number on that, no question about it, which is probably why he leans in and dutifully kisses Bucky on the cheek instead of making a fuss.

Bucky raises an eyebrow, once Steve's pulled back far enough to see it. "That all you got?"

Steve laughs, the laugh that means someone's in for it now, and before Bucky knows it he's backed up against the wall, one of Steve's hands on his shoulder and the other pressed into the wall next to his waist as he leans up to meet Bucky's mouth.

"Better?" He doesn't move away when he asks; Bucky can feel the shape of the word in Steve's lips against his. 

Bucky moves his hands down to cup Steve's ass and pull him closer, pull Steve up onto his toes. "Mmhmm," he murmurs, biting Steve's lip before he can complain about Bucky copping a feel. Steve's fingers tighten on his shoulder, almost hard enough to leave a mark. 

Steve kisses him again, hard, and pulls Bucky's lower lip between his own as he squirms out of his grasp. "So," he says, rocking back on his heels, looking up through his eyelashes in a way Bucky knew he'd deny was meant to be coy, "Got any plans for the rest of the evening?"

They don't even make it to the bedroom. 

It seems like an unnecessary pretense, most of the time, to have this second "bedroom" set up: a bed with cushions propped along the back like it's a sofa and a blanket folded neatly at the foot, a bookshelf, the radio that used to be in the kitchen until they got a better one — there's a joke in there somewhere, about how Bucky uses his bedroom to entertain, but if nothing else it's true that Steve _does_ need what light filters in through the tiny window in the end room. So that's their bedroom, and this is where Bucky swears to his ma he sleeps.

It's only fifteen steps from the kitchen table to the makeshift sofa, but it's probably fewer the way Steve manhandles Bucky through the doorway and pushes him onto it.

Steve's half-naked, somehow, by the time they get there, down to his unfastened trousers as he's pushing Bucky to sit onto the mattress, and with his belt undone they're slipping off his narrow hips. Bucky reaches a hand out to trace the sharp line of Steve's hipbone, and huffs a laugh under his breath when Steve's hips jerk in response.

"Easy, easy," he says quietly, and tightens his hand on Steve's hip, pulls him in. He licks at the hollow of Steve's hip; there's not enough for him to bite here, not really, but he pinches a bit of skin between his teeth and worries at it. Steve's skin here is soft and tender, faintly salty, and he can feel the way Steve's breathing is starting to go ragged. He licks at the spot he'd been nipping and moves down, nuzzling into the fine hairs that curl at the base of Steve's belly just above his shorts, so close to the warm, hard line of his cock.

" _Bucky_." Steve's voice is ragged, too, and a little high pitched.

Bucky wraps his arms around Steve's slim hips again, pulling Steve fully onto his lap. His pants are halfway down his thighs and it can't be comfortable for him, straddling Bucky like this, but Bucky can feel Steve's cock hard against him, can see the tip flushed and leaking when he looks down between them; it doesn't seem like Steve minds _too_ much.

Bucky's aware suddenly that he's just as hard; he can feel Steve rocking against him, such small movements Bucky isn't sure he's doing it on purpose. Even still …

He pulls Steve flush against him, a sudden movement that leaves Steve almost kneeling on either side of Bucky's thighs if only he could stretch quite that far, his cock pressing up against Bucky's stomach, his hands flailing for purchase on Bucky's shoulders. 

"You want to get fucked?" Bucky says, voice harsh in Steve's ear. "Is that what you want?"

Steve squirms in Bucky's lap and doesn't reply except to pant out Bucky's name. He _must_ want it, Bucky realizes, must be more hard up than Bucky had thought; usually it takes a lot more to get Steve to stop talking. "That whatcha want?" he says again; he doesn't expect an answer and he doesn't get one. Not in words, anyway. 

Steve lifts his head from where it was tucked against Bucky's neck and curls one of his hands there instead. With Steve on Bucky's lap like this they're almost of a height, and Steve leans in to kiss him. What finesse he'd had in the kitchen — and that hadn't been much — is all gone now, a wild press of lips, his tongue tracing across Bucky's teeth as soon as he opens his mouth.

"Okay, okay," Bucky says, laughing breathily as he pushes Steve away. Steve just sits there, a cocky grin on his face, underwear half pushed down and his pants around his knees. It's a good look on him, but Bucky can think of a few better ones. "Get naked," he says. 

Steve scrambles off him, nearly falling over in his haste to get his pants the rest of the way off. His dick curves up toward his belly, longer and thicker than the rest of him would lead you to believe. Bucky allows himself a moment to look before he holds out a hand; when Steve leans forward Bucky cups his chin, runs his thumb along Steve's jawline. 

Bucky leans in and presses a gentle kiss to Steve's lips. "Hands and knees," he says quietly.

Steve makes a soft, desperate sound and arranges himself on the bed, pulling down a pillow and pressing his forehead into it for just a moment before he raises his head up, looks back over his shoulder at Bucky. 

Bucky's got his suspenders pulled down off his shoulders, and he's thumbed open the top button of his pants; he left his jacket in the kitchen, but otherwise, he's still fully dressed. He debates, for a moment, the virtues of staying dressed: Steve's never said outright that he likes the feel of Bucky's trousers against his skin, but Bucky's seen the way he pets along the light abrasions left by the fabric. Either way, it doesn't matter yet.

" _Bucky_." 

He can't help but crack a smile at Steve's impatience, and Steve — still looking back at him — scowls. He settles back on the mattress, watches Steve's eyes narrow as he gets comfortable and then flutter closed as Bucky drags a finger down his spine. "I like lookin' at you. So sue me."

Whatever Steve meant to say in response is cut off by a gasp when Bucky's finger traces down his tailbone, and presses just hard enough at the cleft of Steve's ass. Bucky laughs a little and rearranges himself on the bed, gets on his knees behind Steve. His hands cup Steve's ass cheeks, not spreading them apart just yet. 

Bucky had joked once that all Steve's height and weight had gone below the belt at the expense of everywhere else; Steve hadn't appreciated it, but Bucky certainly does. Steve is as well-endowed in his behind as he is in front, and Bucky appreciates the heft of Steve's cheeks in his hands. He rubs his thumbs across the smooth skin there.

Steve lets out a half-hearted protest, a " _Buck_ " that sounds like a scolding, and Bucky presses his thumbs into the meat of Steve's ass in response. Still not pulling him open, not quite, but threatening to.

He leans in to press a kiss to the top of Steve's ass and Steve says his name again, sharper this time. "Impatient," Bucky murmurs into Steve's skin. "Don't you worry. I'll take good care of you." He lays another kiss there, and again.

"Always do," he says. "Don't I?" He can hear the muffled thump of Steve's head hitting the pillow. 

Bucky presses one last kiss to Steve's tailbone before he parts Steve's cheeks and kisses him lower. Steve gasps. Bucky chuckles a little. Steve is bare before him, a little pink pucker Bucky can't wait to get his mouth on.

So he doesn't wait. He licks a stripe up the crack of Steve's ass with the flat of his tongue, and he wants to tease, means to, but he can't help the smile that curves across his face at the gasp Steve lets out.

"Stevie," he murmurs. It's a little silly, talking into Steve's ass, but Steve twitches with every breath of Bucky's across him, and it makes Bucky smile again. He leans back in and licks at Steve's hole, first light, delicate, and then rougher and more forceful. Before he even realizes it he's fucking into Steve with his tongue, wet and sloppy and so, so good: the way Steve thrashes on the bed would be enough to get Bucky hard, if he hadn't been already.

Steve gasps his name out, a muffled " _Bucky_!" into the pillowcase. His hips jerk back and forth as he rubs himself against the mattress, and Bucky doesn't even try and stop him.

He pulls back, just a little. Steve groans at the loss of contact.

"Steve," he says, almost a question. He can feel Steve shiver, can _see_ the twitch as his breath hits Steve's hole.

"Yeah," Steve says. He sounds like something wrecked, something broken. "Yeah, Buck, now."

Bucky hums, drags two fingers down the crack of Steve's ass. It's damp, but it's not enough; he knows it won't be enough. The fingers stay as he uses his other hand to pull Steve's hips up higher. He doesn't have the right leverage like this, not really, but Steve goes easy, folds from his elbows to his forearms and pushes his ass out so far it almost hits Bucky in the nose. 

It's a nice view: Steve's hole is red, the fine blond hairs around it wet with spit, and Bucky's fingers pressing, just barely, inside him. Steve shifts, pushes back even more.

Bucky _tsk_ s, an idle chastisement, and pushes both fingers inside with no further warning. The gasp Steve gives off is choked, muffled; Bucky figures he's shoved his face in the pillow but he's not looking, can't look away from the way Steve clenches around his fingers. 

He twists them once, roughly, just to hear Steve make that sound again and is rewarded. Slowly, he scissors them open, leaning in just close enough that he knows Steve can feel it. He works his jaw, and parts his lips just enough to loose a thick, shining string of saliva into Steve's asshole. Steve gasps again, and Bucky grins.

He pulls his fingers out and sits back, pulls his pants down just enough to get his cock out and fists it almost lazily, waiting for Steve to get impatient. Steve's just starting to say his name, a hard _Buh_ in protest against the pillow, when Bucky presses the head of his cock against Steve's hole and slowly, slowly pushes inside.

It's _hot_ , body heat and friction both, the thick, rough drag of his cock against Steve's walls. It hurts, a little, but Bucky can feel his cock leaking and knows it will soothe the way soon enough.

He'll have to fuck Steve harder, to make up for it.

He settles into a punishing rhythm, fucking into Steve short and deep, the weave of his pants never too far from Steve's inner thighs; there'll be bruising there in the morning for sure. Steve is getting loud: he's just breathing, _panting_ , but it's so loud Bucky's half-worried the neighbors will hear.

"Shh," he says, and slows his hips to a standstill. Steve keens.

" _Buck_ ," he says — whines, really.

"Gotta be quiet," Bucky says. He punctuates it with a snap of his hips, and Steve lets out another whine, high and wordless. Bucky _tsk_ s. " _Quiet_ , Stevie."

Steve buries his head back in the pillow; Bucky would swear he's biting it. 

He drapes himself across Steve's back as well as he can, mindful that Steve can't quite carry all his weight. The new angle slows his thrusts down, and he's not sure if it's that that pulls a long, low groan out of Steve, or the fact that he's reached around and laid his hand low on Steve's belly, close to his cock but not quite touching it.

"Please," Steve chokes out, lifting his head from the pillow. " _Please_." 

Bucky doesn't say anything, just hums a little in response, snaps his hips against Steve's ass again. He can feel the buttons of his shirt pressing into his chest, knows they must be pressing against Steve's bare back. He can feel every breath Steve takes. It's getting shuddery, fluttery gasps every time Bucky moves inside him.

He taps his fingers against Steve's stomach. He can feel the muscles there flex. Steve says his name again but Bucky ignores it, keeps fucking him. His fingers move to brush across the hair at the base of Steve's cock.

Steve's buried his face in the pillow again. Bucky can tell from the line of his back, the downward slant of his spine, the way his body trembles. Bucky moves his hands to grip Steve's hips instead, and he can feel them buck forward, looking for friction. "Stevie," he murmurs into Steve's shoulder blade, and presses a kiss there. "You don't need me to touch you, do ya? You can come just like this, can'tcha?" Steve whimpers in response, and Bucky smiles. He snaps his hips sharply again.

Steve makes a noise that might be Bucky's name. Bucky digs his fingers into the scant meat of Steve's hips. "C'mon," he says. "For me."

That seems to do the trick: Steve twitches in Bucky's grasp, once, twice, and lets go a full body shiver. His ass contracts around Bucky's cock, and Bucky gasps a little himself. " _Steve_ ," he says, voice perilously close to a moan.

He pulls out slowly, and in doing so lets go of Steve's hips; Steve collapses into his own wet spot with a whine. Bucky pets a long line down Steve's back with one hand, still holding his cock with the other.

"You're so _good_ ," Bucky croons, and Steve lets out a muffled "Fuck you" from the pillow. Bucky grins.

" _Language_ ," he says, and laughs. Steve laughs too, or Bucky thinks; he can't hear it, but he can see Steve's shoulders shaking, can feel it a little.

He wraps his hand more firmly around his cock and starts stroking it slowly. His other hand comes to rest at the top of Steve's ass, his thumb moving in small circles over the soft skin there. "Stevie," he says quietly, "Stevie, Stevie."

"Oh, shut up," Steve says, half exasperated and half exhausted, all the fight in his tone drowned out and muffled into the pillow.

Bucky jerks himself faster, and it's not long before he feels his balls draw up tight, before he lets go over Steve's back in one, two, three long pulses. He groans, more loudly than he'd meant to, and pitches forward. He barely catches himself on one hand before he collapses onto Steve entirely.

Steve grumbles beneath him, shifts around until he's lying on his back, and tugs Bucky down with a hand on the back of his neck. "C'mere, you," he says, and Bucky goes obligingly.

He drapes himself over Steve, lets himself push him into the mattress. He presses a kiss to the underside of Steve's chin, digs his nose into Steve's collarbone.

"Feel ok?" he asks.

Steve huffs out a laugh. "Feel great." 

Bucky smiles, drops another soft kiss to Steve's chest. "Good," he says.

"Gonna have to get cleaned up," Steve says, but he doesn't sound too upset about it. Bucky hums in agreement, but doesn't move. He can feel himself dropping off to sleep, comfortable on Steve's thin form, lulled by his orgasm. 

After a minute he manages a mumbled "Later," and Steve laughs again. He drops a kiss on the top of Bucky's head.

"Sure, Buck," Steve says, "sure."

Bucky smiles sleepily into Steve's chest and reaches out, pats his hand around on the bed until Steve takes pity on him and takes Bucky's hand in his own. Bucky sighs happily. "'s a good day," he says.

Steve laughs. "Sure, Buck," he says again. "Sure is."


End file.
